


Interlude

by gingerteaandsympathy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angsty Doctor (Doctor Who), Bad Wolf Rose Tyler, F/M, One Shot, Rose Tyler Loves the Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerteaandsympathy/pseuds/gingerteaandsympathy
Summary: "You know, you'll have to take me back eventually," she said. She appeared to speak to the room, or perhaps nothing in particular, but the man sitting on the bed was staring right at her. His hastily-donned tweed suit was rumpled, and his hair ruffled with sleep. She avoided meeting his eyes as she continued, "You're a married man, after all."An interlude between one Rose Tyler and the Eleventh Doctor, after a night together.





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not exactly sure why I wrote this, but a loose idea for it popped into my head, and I couldn't shake it. I'm not exactly sure where this story lives in the rather complicated timeline of the Doctor and River Song's relationship. It's safe to assume it's somewhere in the hazy middle!
> 
> Also, this is my first ever fic and a sort of an experiment, so forgive any errors or oddness.

**Interlude**

Rose stepped into the room, wrapped in a towel and still dripping from the shower. One hand tucked the white terrycloth to her chest, perhaps intent on preventing any untoward displays that might prompt a repetition of last night. The other was buffing a towel into her hair, which he saw glinted like gold even as it clung damply to her shoulders.

"You know, you'll have to take me back eventually," she said. She appeared to speak to the room, or perhaps nothing in particular, but the man sitting on the bed was staring right at her. His hastily-donned tweed suit was rumpled, and his hair ruffled with sleep. She avoided meeting his eyes as she continued, "You're a married man, after all."

"I told you that in good faith."

Rose chuckled. "Your faith in me was always misplaced, Doctor. I'm no deity -- just a woman." Her bare feet padded across the dark wood of the bedroom floor, carrying her right to him, but not close enough to touch. "A rather jealous one, it seems," she added, more to herself.

Even after all this time, they orbited each other. Two planes, circling the same landing pad, never daring to descend.

"You're angry," the man said, fiddling with his bow tie. His head bowed. His hair flopped into his eyes and he made no effort to move it.

She sighed. "No, Doctor," she replied quietly. "I'm... I'm not sure what I am, but I'm not angry." Finally, she ventured a touch -- the first since she'd removed his arm from around her bare stomach upon waking. Her hand cupped his cheek, and it felt warm and just slightly damp against his skin. "I'm glad you're not alone, Doctor. That's all I ever thought of, over there. That you might be alone. And you're not. And she's-- I'm sure she's wonderful."

"Stay, then," he spoke, too quickly. His voice was tight. He was still afraid to meet her eye. "She's not always here. And there's room on the TARDIS. Your... you can have your old room back, even. It's still there."

When Rose laughed, the sound fell flat from her mouth and landed on his head like a blow. "You know I can't. She doesn't know about me. She knows your name and she knows your story, but she doesn't know about me. It's best we keep it that way, for now."

Her hand drifted down his neck, and back to tangle in the fine hairs at the nape. He never knew how she did these things -- how she could sniff out his sensitive spots on sheer instinct. No matter which body he wore, she seemed to cut right down to the part of him that shivered at her touch. Perhaps it was just her way.

He heard the smile in her voice as she added, "But thank you for keeping my room, Doctor. Makes me feel I could really come back, even now."

"I'm sorry," he replied. There wasn't anything else to say.

He could sense her closeness as she leaned down towards him, the damp spirals of her hair falling towards him. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "I came looking." When he looked up into her face, he saw every year they'd spent apart written all over her face. Every crack she'd jumped through. And then fallen through. Again and again, like falling down the rabbit hole, powerless to stop the pull of time.

"Where will you go?"

Rose smiled, righting herself, stepping away from him. Reinstating distance. "I haven't decided yet. John and I always talked about going to Tokyo, so I might start there. But... I'll probably go everywhere, I expect." Her eyes glowed at the mention of travel -- of getting back on the road. Rose Tyler never stood still. At least, not anymore. Bitterly, he thought, _I suppose I cured her of that._

"I can drop you off wherever you like. Whenever. Your wish, as always, is my command."

The line drew another smile out of her. "I can make my own way, but thank you, Doctor."

He stood up and stepped closer to her, his eyes trained on hers. Her eyes which had once been the color of whisky and now sparkled gold. A punishment for his crimes. "No, thank _you_."

The younger him -- his last body -- would have been trying to memorize every detail of her face. Would have made a map of it and sketched her out over the walls of his mind, tracing each line, committed to loving every inch. He would have carried that memory of her face through space and time like a photograph, or a compass, or like a wound.

But this face knew better. Knew the futility of such things.

Knew the value of forgetting.

Still, he couldn't help but lift his hand to her temple and stroke back a loose wave of golden hair. He was so much wiser now, and yet, he found himself forgetting all of the reasons why he shouldn't hang on this moment -- eyes locking on eyes, green and gold, and breath intermingling between them.

"Rose Tyler, Defender of the Universe," he whispered, smiling despite himself. "I knew you'd be fantastic." He watched her eyelids flutter closed, tears dampening her lashes. _Fantastic._ A word he hadn't said -- or even thought -- in a while. But it suited Rose. She was fantastic. Brilliant. _Molto bene._ Everything he'd ever wanted and more. An impossible dream, a hope beyond all hope...

He wondered if she'd always looked this beautiful before, or if maybe it was his new eyes. He wanted to look at her forever. But time was running out. "Rose, I know it's... so late, maybe too late, but... I suppose, if this is my last chance to say it..."

The words sounded strange out of this mouth. Like he was a record, skipping and repeating, only the melody had imperceptibly changed.

Before he could continue, Rose's eyes flew open and she pressed her finger to his mouth. "Don't you dare," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You've got a wife. I'm a widow. We both know we can't pick up where we left off." She removed her finger, instead using it to trace over his faint eyebrow. She studied his face -- probably still taking in the pokey chin and the big, puppydog eyes. Finally, she gave him a small smile. "Let's not pretend, okay?"

The Doctor nodded, a lump in his throat.

She pressed a kiss to his lips, small and steam-warmed. Her mouth tasted like spearmint and he idly wondered if she'd used his toothbrush. The thought sent a tingle down his spine.

He watched her get dressed -- slowly, perhaps intentionally so, donning her funereal black -- and she prompted him into talking about other things. About his friends, Amy and Rory. About the places he wanted to go next. About the places he'd like to take her, if he could, if she could have stayed.

The whole time she listened placidly, smiling when he said something witty and rolling her eyes when he said something mad. As much as she'd said no pretending, this was the hardest pretense of them all. Acting like she wasn't about to leave him. Acting like he hadn't taken her offer of forever and exchanged it for a new body and a wife and an almost unforgivably faulty memory.

Watching her redress was like watching a book slam shut. The cover, the mask, was the only thing left to him. No chance of looking at the pages within. No hope of seeing what she felt.

Once she was dressed, they walked out to the console room. The black clothes seemed to dull the preternatural glow of her skin, making her golden eyes shine all the brighter in the dim light of the time rotor.

"Rose, I'm _sorry_ ," he repeated suddenly, his voice choking. "I'll... I won't forget. Maybe, someday..."

Rose smiled sadly. "In a few hundred years, once your wife has gone and you've changed your face again, maybe you'll come find me?" Her face was so pained that it made his chest seize up. He couldn't breathe for the pain of it. "No, Doctor. You won't. I've already seen it."

He didn't ask what she meant by "seen."

 _Spoilers_ , _after all._ The word made his heart ache with guilt.

"Cheer up, Doctor," she said, her voice aiming at levity, and narrowly missing. "Someone once told me that time can be rewritten."

That coaxed a smile to his face.

"And anyway, what do I need you for? I've got my own TARDIS now!" Her eyes sparkled with tears and mischief. "All of time and space! I might just go to the planet Barcelona, finally see those dogs with no noses. In fact, I think that's what I'll do." The decision -- the clear direction -- seemed to take some weight off her shoulders and her smile blossomed like a flower on her lips.

"On your own?" he found himself asking, almost without thinking.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll pick up a stray along the way," she laughed unsteadily. "Maybe a girl who works in a shop or something. Could blow up her job. Put some stars in her eyes. The TARDIS, she has a knack for... for finding the right ones. She brought me back to you, after all."

He tried for a smile.

"Now," she said, suddenly snapping into action, "let me help you pilot this thing. I know for a _fact_ you have a habit of leaving the brakes on."

The Doctor's eyes practically bulged out of his head. "H-how? What?" He sort of stuttered for a second before her laugh cut him off.

"Oh, Doctor." And then her eyes grew positively wicked, every bit as devilish as she had looked last night, sending a rush of heat to his cheeks. She didn't look away. " _Spoilers_."

He choked.

She slammed the lever and flung them into the vortex, her wild laugh echoing through the TARDIS.

The Doctor had no idea of what was coming for him.

No idea at all.


End file.
